Program gives immigrants' dreams a chance

That day in November when the envelope arrived at Fidelio Cruz's home in Midway City, he knew exactly what was in it. He had been waiting since August.

But Cruz didn't open it right away. He waited for his mother and his father and his girlfriend.

"I knew certain people wanted to be there when I opened it. It was that big an event," said the college graduate, 24, about getting the Employment Authorization Card that allows him to legally work in the United States.

They all cheered.

Cruz was brought here from Mexico by his parents when he was 5. He has only vague memories of Mexico and didn't realize his illegal status until high school.

Under immigration policy enacted in August, Cruz and about 1.7 million other young adults under age 31 who are in the country illegally became eligible to apply for temporary work permits and for two years' protection from the threat of deportation.

With his card, Cruz can seek jobs that were previously off limits to him as an undocumented immigrant, and pursue the kind of work befitting his degree in sociology from Cal State Long Beach.

There was someone else he wanted to show his card to in person.

Earlier this year, Cruz dropped by the office of Zayda Garcia on the campus of his old grade school in Huntington Beach's impoverished Oak View neighborhood. Garcia is executive director of the El Viento enrichment program for students from Oak View Elementary School.

Cruz was in the first group to go through the program from fourth grade through high school. Garcia, along with other mentors, helped make it possible for Cruz to go to college.

"He showed me his card. He almost didn't have to say anything to me because I knew what it meant," Garcia said. "It meant having a future."

WAITING ON A DREAM

Cruz is visiting Garcia again on a recent afternoon, with Francisco Rojas, another graduate of that first El Viento group of 42 kids. Rojas, also 24 and studying sociology, expects to graduate from Cal State Long Beach in the fall.

They sit beside Garcia in her cramped, bare-bones office inside a portable building on the Oak View campus. On a wall above a stack of boxes that contain backpacks donated for needy students is a verse from an early Aerosmith hit. It seems to speak directly to the two young men: "Dream on, Dream on, Dream Until Your Dream Comes True."

Rojas, one of four children, was brought to this country illegally at age 1. His family and Cruz's family left the Mexican city of Puebla. Neither has been back to Mexico. Their home is here.

Both stayed away from trouble and stuck with El Viento until they graduated from high school. One of the program's rewards was $4,000 in scholarship money for college, based on keeping their grades up.

They have worked at establishments that turned a blind eye to their legal status, often holding two jobs while carrying a full load of classes at Golden West College in Huntington Beach and then at Long Beach.

They still live with their parents, who have jobs in landscaping and housekeeping or bring in extra cash baby-sitting and selling things secondhand.

Rojas, whose family remains in the Oak View neighborhood, got his work permit from immigration services toward the end of summer, not long after submitting paperwork that included school records, achievement certificates and a letter from El Viento.

"Every day we were just waiting for the law to pass and help us out," Rojas said of the Dream Act, the proposed legislation that would give young undocumented immigrants like him and Cruz a shot at legal residency.

With the Dream Act on hold, immigration officials in June enacted the policy change that allows Rojas and Cruz to think more positively about their futures.

"It's like you're hopeful," Cruz said, "but you don't want to be desperate."

After learning about Cruz's work permit, Garcia was able to help him land an internship with a gang prevention and youth development program for adolescent boys run by Community Services Programs Inc. at Oak View Elementary.

While Cruz didn't fall victim to the temptations of drugs and gangs, he did have a moment of serious doubt in high school after he learned about his immigration status. He thought it destined him for a low-paying job, no matter his education.

"I almost wanted to drop out of high school," he said.

Rojas also worried about transferring from Golden West to a state college: "Where was I going to get the money? I didn't want to put that burden on my parents."

Rojas worked and saved. For four years, he bused tables and washed dishes at a restaurant, but quit when he asked to be a server and was denied. "They said I wasn't fit for it."

He now makes and delivers pizzas for another restaurant while finishing school.

Cruz held a similar job before he got his internship. He's not getting paid for the 15 hours or so he works with the boys at Oak View, but he has savings. He is hoping the internship leads to a paid job working with youth.

'KEEPING HOPE ALIVE'

Garcia remembers how Cruz's mother cried during one meeting as she told her son to stay in school. His teachers, school counselors and Garcia also said the same to him: "Nobody knows what's going to happen in the future."

Garcia's own story is a perfect example.

Garcia, 39, came here legally at the age of 11 on a student visa to live with her grandmother. Her parents had stayed in Mexico when the rest of her family immigrated to Los Angeles. When their marriage broke up, her father continued to live in Mexico, her mother moved to El Centro and Garcia was sent to Los Angeles.

"For my family, you would graduate high school, get married and then that was it. That was your life purpose," Garcia said.

She wanted more, especially after seeing friends go off to college and come back to tell of their experiences. She became a dental assistant and put herself through college.

"I really had to do that on my own," she said, "because my family was like, 'What are you doing? Just get married.'"

It helped that the dentist she worked for was supportive, hiring a second assistant for those times when Garcia was at school. It took her six years to get her bachelor's degree.

Garcia had planned to pursue her master's and become a therapist. But one of El Viento's co-founders, Ellen K. Shockro, was a former professor of Garcia's and persuaded her to pay a visit to the program, whose name is Spanish for "the wind."

Garcia intended to stay with El Viento for a year and then go back to school. That was 13 years ago.

Garcia, who became a naturalized citizen in 2001, said the accomplishments of the students make her feel like a proud mom.

"For these guys," she said, looking at the young men who were just boys when she met them, "it's about keeping hope alive."